


poetry of logical ideas

by whitefang (radialarch)



Category: Captain America (Movies), our golden age - fic
Genre: Gen, Mathematics, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/whitefang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Steve learns algebra (eventually).</p>
            </blockquote>





	poetry of logical ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [augustbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustbird/gifts).
  * Inspired by [our golden age](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580042) by [augustbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustbird/pseuds/augustbird). 



> If you have not read [chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1580042/chapters/4996005) of augustbird's our golden age, this likely will not make any sense. If you have, this...probably still will not make any sense, to be honest.
> 
> Listen, I just want Steve Rogers to learn algebra. Please note that Bucky is a great, intuitive student but a terrible teacher and should not be emulated.
> 
> (Title from Einstein.)

Sometimes they do their homework together. When Bucky doesn’t have any events to go to, Halley brings them both over to Susanne’s after school. Susanne always has something for them to eat, cookies fresh out of the oven or pastries light and flaky, and they swallow them down with a glass of milk before pounding up to Steve’s room to flop onto his bed.

Steve starts having trouble with math after a two-week stint in the hospital, when his flu turns into pneumonia in November. He’s still coughing when he leaves but he doesn’t want to miss any more school. His teachers are used to it by now and get him assignments he needs to make up, and all of the sheets in the math folder are about something called quadratics.

“They’re easy,” Bucky tells him while Steve is staring at the tiny _x_ s. “It’s like -- okay, look at this one.”

Bucky points to the top of the paper. Steve blinks for a moment at the shape Bucky’s hand makes against the paper before his eyes focus on the problem.

“It’s 4 and 9,” Bucky says. “‘Cause if you add them that’s 13, and times is 36.”

He writes down

and grins expectantly at him.

“Um.” Steve says. He has no idea where the 4 or the 9 came from.

“You do the next one,” Bucky says.

Steve looks at problem 2. It says

Steve taps his pencil against the sheet and tries to think. He writes down _x_ on the paper.

“Make a list,” Bucky suggests. “Like, stuff that multiplies to 15.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He dutifully writes down

“There’s 15 and 1, too,” Bucky says helpfully.

“Okay, now you gotta figure out which ones subtract to get 2.”

“I thought you added them.” Steve stares accusingly at the first problem, where the 4 and 9 are scribbled down in Bucky’s handwriting.

“Yeah, but there’s a minus there.” Bucky shifts over so his shoulder is pressed against Steve’s and points. “See?”

Steve doesn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. He slowly writes down

“Yeah, so it’s 5 and 3!” Bucky nods. The bed bounces along with Bucky’s motion.

Steve bites his lip. “Okay.” He looks back up at what Bucky had written and copies down

“No, it’s minus 3.” Bucky slips the pencil out of Steve’s hand, flipping it over to erase. He’s reaching across Steve’s forearm -- the heat bleeds through Steve’s shirt onto his skin, and he wonders if Bucky can feel that too.

“Because there’s a minus there,” Steve guesses. He points to somewhere among the mess of scribbles.

“Yep,” Bucky says cheerfully. “See? You’re getting it.”

The paper now says

Steve wonders when Bucky turned into such an optimist, because he’s nowhere close to getting it and he’s really not that good at faking it. But he doesn’t want Bucky to think he’s completely stupid, either. He sighs and looks at the next problem.

“Stuff that multiplies to...3,” he tries. He looks at Bucky. There’s a curl of hair slipping out from behind Bucky’s ear; when he gives Steve an encouraging nod, it slips out completely to hang in front of Bucky’s eye.

Steve looks away and writes

“So now I gotta subtract--”

“Add.”

“Add,” Steve repeats. For a moment he’d thought he knew what to do, but apparently not. He bites down a sigh and writes

“Oh,” Steve says, and looks up at the 4 in the problem. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “So you know it’s those two.”

Steve writes down

and then hesitates. With a sidelong glance at Bucky, he erases the plus and puts in a careful minus sign instead. When Bucky doesn’t say anything, he lets out a breath and keeps going.

“It’s minus on the other one, too,” Bucky says.

“Right.” Steve doesn’t want to ask why; he just erases some more.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Steve asks. He’s not sure he wants to keep failing at this while Bucky’s watching.

“Yeah, but this is more fun.” Bucky says, and then reaches out to ruffle his hair. Steve ducks instinctively but Bucky catches the top of his head anyway.

“Jerk,” Steve says. It comes out a little too affectionately, and he has to look down, catch his breath. “Do your homework.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bucky says, and then he’s rolling over, on top of Steve.

“Oh my god, what are you--” The rest of his words end up pressed into his pillow, as Bucky maneuvers for a grip. Steve kicks out and catches Bucky’s shin but then Bucky’s knee on top of Steve’s thigh and Bucky’s pinned him down by both shoulders.

Bucky’s grinning at him, triumphant. “I give up, I give up!” Steve shrieks, but Bucky’s not letting him go. He pokes at Steve’s side, and Steve can’t stop laughing until his laughs slide into a cough instead.

Bucky rolls off him immediately, wrestling Steve into sitting up. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, all the laughter gone from his face. He stares closely into Steve’s eyes, and Steve has no idea what he’s looking for. “Are you okay?”

It takes Steve a moment to answer. His ribs hurt when he breathes but he doesn’t think that one’s Bucky’s fault. “Yeah,” he says between coughs. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced. “Want some water or something?” He gets off the bed and makes a motion towards the door.

Steve wants Bucky to sit back next to him way more than he wants water. “Okay,” he says anyway.

Bucky goes. Steve lies back down and listens to the sound of Bucky crashing downstairs. He gives himself a moment to hate himself and his body, and then shakes himself out of it because it’s childish and there’s nothing he can do about it, now.

Steve doesn’t find the worksheet again until after winter break’s over, when he’s cleaning under his bed. Bucky had a function at Christmas and Steve hasn’t talked to him except in brief texts for weeks.

Steve sits on the floor and looks at where Bucky had neatly filled in the answer to problem 1. He grips it tight, thinking about Bucky writing down the answer like it was obvious, Bucky’s hand resting on the paper. Bucky’s hands on him.

He puts the paper back under the bed because he doesn’t want to throw it out. It disappears, eventually.


End file.
